Fearless
by amirmitchell
Summary: teen mom au/ the misadventures of Maya getting knocked up her senior year of high school and her childhood best friend, Lucas, stepping in as the non biological baby daddy
1. bets and babies and beautiful blondes

**wow an actual multichaptered lucaya fic I sure am workin' my way up**

 **as always, if they fuck you up as much as they fuck my up my tumblr's open season for feels (mayahartdefensesquad)**

 **will probably update every monday and thursday night  
**

* * *

When you were younger, your mama told you that one day, you will meet a girl that you would go to the ends of the earth for that wasn't her. She told you that you will meet a girl that turns your world completely upside down and while you should always want to be the best version of you for yourself, that girl will bring it out before you can blink twice. Your mama gave you a small smile and said that you won't know as much as what your favorite color is until you look into her eyes and your nine year old self thought that it was the biggest load of crap you'd ever heard. You told her in return that your favorite color would always be red and 'since there ain't girls with red eyes, that's never gonna happen'.

You also remember coming home to her the night after Maya Hart held your hand for the first time when you were thirteen and seeing nothing but the deepest of blues all around you.

You've been best friends since you moved to New York from Texas when you were ten. In the fourth grade, she scuffed your new riding boots with her sneakers and told you to "giddy up your way to a shoe shinin' kit, partner," and then after you informed her that you would find your dad's polish right after school, she growled at you and threw a note that said "Get out of my school" at your head. Your mom soon began watching her while worked because "it's the polite thing to do, Lucas, and they're just right in the next building". You've been on practically the same schedule together since elementary school. You have a game that no one else plays. (Well, you tease her when she shows how caring she is or about her size and she teases you because of your slight southern accent or just to tease you because if there's one thing that Maya loves, it's trying to attack you with jokes.)

You even shared your first kiss with her during your seventh grade production of Romeo and Juliet. It was short and sloppy and awkward and it honestly sounds like a pretty normal story right up until the point where it's stated that Maya wasn't even in the production, there was no kiss scene with lips involved, and you were Tree #3. She was sitting in the front row and in the midst of Farkle's dance break, she rolled her eyes and scoffed at Zay before stomping her way on stage and pressing her lips against yours.

"Zay and I were talking about how you would never get your first kiss this lifetime after your terrible tree impersonation, and I told him that I wouldn't let that happen to you because you're my best friend- but then he said that I would never kiss you with that stupid voice that he gets. So I was like, 'Okay, tell me again that I wouldn't!' and he totally did like twice, Buckaroo, and so I just had to kiss you! I just did."

(This should've been a warning.)

You found yourself at her window that night, and she looked at you with the most beautiful eyes that you'd ever seen and the smallest smirk on her lips. She asked you if she was your first kiss, and when you told her that she was, she said that you were hers as well.

"I'm glad that it was you, Potato Johnson."

Your second shared kiss with Maya Hart was a soft kiss with a hushed goodnight whispered against your lips before she pushed you out of her window and closed it. It left you confused and unknowing to how your emotions should be after that and you were a weird cross between happy you kissed and mad that she shut the window in your face without even offering you a blanket for the walk home like you do for her.

(This should've been a huge warning that she would do nothing but puzzle you and steal your blankets for the next five years.)

After that, she only teased you more and you spent even more time together. You were even more inseparable than you were as younger kids, and there's not a single moment that you can remember here in New York that you were just _Lucas_ and not _Lucas and Maya_.

Over the years, you didn't seem to do anything without one another. You join her art club at every weekly meeting, she watches you play baseball every spring, and the FACS club that bakes twice every week after school wouldn't be the same without you and Maya there to mess up the recipes. You're with each other through any fight that you have with anyone, any time that her dad promises to meet her and doesn't show, any time that your dad leaves for another week because of work, late nights that her mom doesn't seem to come home, nights she's scared of a storm, birthdays, holidays- you guys even have nights that you come over just because you miss each other. You know about the time that she ate a basket of soap at her cousin's wedding and she knows that you wanted to be a country singer until you were eight and there aren't really secrets between you. You have tons of movie nights and constant sleepovers and special jokes and, of course, you guys spend time with more friends and your families, but a 24-hour window that you and Maya don't see or talk to each other at least once will always be one for the books. The two of you are just compatible in a way beyond labels. It's so rare and it's so great because it means that you know Maya Hart, fully and without boundaries.

The thing about that is that knowing Maya Hart, fully and without boundaries, is sometimes enough to make you want to rip your hair out.

* * *

Lucas is mad.

He's not mad at you for getting pregnant at seventeen right as your senior year starts. He's not mad at the fact of you filled his favorite drawstring backpack with sticks coated in your piss before running over here. He's not even mad that you then proceeded to throw said bag of piss covered sticks into his arms.

No, he's mad because when he asks you why you slept with Nathaniel Watters at Billy's back to school extravaganza, you have no other choice but to look him in the eyes and tell him that you did it because of a bet.

(In fairness, you were already five shots in when the bet was made, and you didn't realize that both of you wagering a night in bed without a condom in sight left absolutely no winners, but still.)

"Maya, please tell me that you're joking."

You want to say that you are, but instead you just pat on the bag full of tests and give a weak smile because he knows that if there's one thing you don't do, it's back down from a challenge.

"Maya, you are not telling me that the one time that I don't go with you to a party, you managed to end up _pregnant_ because of a _bet_."

Hearing Lucas actually say the word makes your stomach start to turn.

"You had sex with someone that you barely talk to without protection while drunk at a party, and you're coming to me now because you're _pregnant_ from a _bet_."

So maybe you hadn't thought this entire thing through yet. It hadn't really settled in your mind that there's a life inside you right now because you made an irresponsible decision while drinking and now you literally have absolutely no clue what to do whatsoever.

"Maya? Are you listening? You can't treat this like a joke. This is serious."

You have a life inside you.

A real human life.

In your body.

Right now.

"Maya?"

It's swishing around in there with the leftover tuna melt that you had for breakfast and that can of cream soda that you stole from Riley's fridge. A little baby egg bean is right there next to last night's chicken tacos and that strawberry sundae from McDonalds.

"Are you crying?"

 _Are_ you crying? You didn't know that you started crying. Then again, it feels like you didn't know that you were carrying a human life in you until like five minutes ago so whatever. It's chill. Maybe you are crying.

"Maya, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad-I just... I don't know. I was being a dick, I'm sorry."

You haven't said a word to him, yet he apologizes twice more before wrapping his arms around you.

"We'll figure it out. We always do, don't we?"

The soft kiss he presses to your forehead eases your anxieties while you cry into his shoulder. He's right. Of course, he is. He's Lucas. He always knows what to do, doesn't he? He makes everything better.

"I mean, honestly, Maya Papaya, what's the worst that can happen?"

Your smile at his nickname drops as you open your mouth, "My mom kicks me out, I have to drop out of school, I'll get no help from the fuckboy, I have no means of income to support a family, my baby pops out looking like a crunchy hot cheeto, and I never lose the baby weight."

"In fairness, I know for a fact that only one of those is definite and it's because only a crunchy hot cheeto resembling baby is possible with your crying face that goes tomato red and the fact that you're the size of a cute little garden gnome." He taps the end of your nose and it's moments like these that you wonder if anything can ever truly be terrible with someone as sweet as Lucas Friar in this world.

"You are an ass, cowboy," you laugh into his shoulder with a soft bite to his shirt in teasing before he tips his imaginary hat.

"It's all a part of the rodeo show, darlin'."

* * *

On nights that Maya is especially upset, she likes to put on your clothes and curl herself into the beanbag chair in the corner of your room for hours without speaking. She just sits there with her eyes shut, not even sleeping- just breathing deeply and humming little songs. She tells you that it's because there are times that she just wants to be anyone but herself and the closest that she can get to that is wrapping herself entirely in you until everything else in the world fades away and the only thing she can sense is the smell of your body wash and your favorite cologne.

The night that she tells everyone that matters to her that she's pregnant is one of those nights.

"I told them all tonight." Her words are quiet and spoken with her back to you. "I went and I told my mom and Riley and her parents and Farkle and Zay. Everyone." It'd been a week since she told you and in that time, her period remained another week late and she filled your backpack with twelve more positive pregnancy tests. "I told my mom first. She cried a little bit and talked to me for maybe ten minutes about how she'll make a doctor's appointment as soon as she can and we'll make it through this. She told me that everyone has a little scratch in their record every once in awhile and my song will play smoother than ever soon, and then she had to leave for work. When I went to Riley's, everyone besides her mom was mad. Er..they weren't angry as much as disappointed, and I was really worried, but Topanga pulled me over and told me that she'll be there no matter what. She knows how scared I must feel and she is an experienced mother there for me at any hour. Riley's really upset. I figured I'd give her a few days. I met up with Farkle and Zay at Topanga's after that, and they were really cool about it. They asked me what I was going to do, and they bought me hot chocolate and a cupcake. They both made jokes about being cool uncles and they made me feel a lot better about everything. I figured it wouldn't be as bad if I just got it all over with on one night."

You stand up and walk to your beanbag, your arm jutting out to pull her from the ground before you wrap it around her shoulder. She gives you a sad smile, so you kiss the top of her head and start leading her out of your room and towards your kitchen to find some type of treat to ease her mind.

Your mom scares the both of you as you take turns throwing M&Ms across the kitchen a few minutes later, aiming for each other's mouths. She walks in and smiles at the sight of the two of you laughing, quickly asking how everything is.

"It's alright," Maya assures. "I told everyone else tonight, so we're kicking back." You'd told your mom the first night that she came over, and, like magic, she seemed to fix everything with cups of tea and the promise of love and support. Maya told you how lucky she was to have you guys in her life that night and kissed your cheek with lips that smelled like honey before she fell fast asleep.

"I'm proud of you, sweet pea." Your mom steals a cookie from the counters and reminds you both not to stay up too late, going back into her bedroom with two more cookies and kisses planted on your own and Maya's forehead.

After your mom walks out and you're left alone again, you take a second to fully acknowledge Maya. You can't hold back a chuckle at the girl standing at a towering five feet opposite you in your basketball shorts that are hanging almost to the middle of her shins and your hoodie with the ends of the sleeves slightly pooling at her wrists. She has a face free of any makeup and her favorite of your beanies is covering her messy hair. You think that this is possibly the cutest that you've ever seen her other than that Halloween that Riley convinced her to be the other half of a rainbow and she took every photo that night with a pout on her lips. (She'd even convinced you to be a pot of gold, and Farkle was a leprechaun.)

She bears her teeth in a giant smile as an M&M hits you right between your eyes, obnoxiously laughing. "Bullseye!"

You grin along with her because your beautiful blonde is jumping and cheering and clapping her hands like a child in clothes that are baggy from top to bottom on her, and you have no choice but to decide right then and there that nothing, not even Maya Hart putting the rain in rainbow, will ever be cuter than this.


	2. doctors and deviance and definitely sorr

Ch. 2: doctors and deviance and definitely sorry best friends

 **reviews and comments and kudos and asks to my tumblr are welcome as always and ps updates are definitely going to be every monday and thursday and also sorry for this being so short idk if there's even going to be a consistent word count whoops**

* * *

"Well, Ms. Hart, I will see you back in a few weeks then after you get that ultrasound taken."

Doctors appointments are definitely not one of your favorite things. Not only did you just get your blood drawn, thoroughly felt up with cold latex gloves, and have to piss in a cup, but that fun was all in addition to everybody and their fucking mother telling you how gorgeous your baby is going to be.

With Lucas.

Not the actual father.

Nope.

Lucas.

Fucking. Lucas.

(So obviously your favorite part of the day was dealing with the disappointment in their eyes when they realized that Pretty Boy wasn't the donor and the judgement at the fact that your seventeen year old body has apparently been sluttin' it up left and right with every guy that it meets.)

The thing that pisses you off the most, you think, is that he didn't even deny it, either! He just stood there smiling like an idiot while they gave you dirty looks and hit on him after finding out he wasn't on the road to fatherhood. What a load of assholes. You're jumping for joy to be back in a month, don't let your scowling face and dead eyes fool anyone.

"I'm sorry, Shortstack." Lucas wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the office before you probably murder a midwife. "Why don't we go get some ice cream?"

You pout your lips and look down. You stare at your stomach and poke a finger at the bloat filling it at 10 weeks. The doctor told you today that you'll most likely be showing earlier than later considering how tiny your frame is, too. The last thing that you probably need is ice cream.

You continue to prod at your figure until a foreign hand joins yours and presses flat against your lower abdomen. "What was that?" Lucas asks, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk and bending down to press his ear to your stomach. "You want ice cream?" His green eyes glance up with an unapologetic grin for pulling his first baby card, "I'm afraid we have to get ice cream. Lucas Jr. wants some."

"Lucas Jr.?"

You are definitely not letting him name your unborn child after himself, especially if he's already using said unborn child against you.

"He says that he wants... Ooh, Baskin Robins? Sick choice, bud. But we're gonna have to ask Mommy up there." He high fives below your ribs with a wide grin and you almost can't even feel it because his sparkling eyes meeting yours from below after him calling you 'Mommy' kind of makes your heart spin and your head stop. You try to brush it off, but it has little to no success because Lucas is wiping tears from your cheeks before you can register that they're there and when he asks you why you're crying, you can only reply a hushed response in a shaky form, "I'm gonna be a mommy... to a little baby, Lucas."

"Wow, what an unfortunate baby," he teases. and nudges you, all the unknown melting away with his help. He presses a kiss to your forehead and starts heading towards the nearest ice cream shop with you in tow.

(You realize that night when you're lying alone in your bed that the truly upsetting realization that accompanies you being a mommy is that your baby isn't going to have anyone to call daddy.)

* * *

The day that Maya tells good ol' Nate the Great that he's going to be a dad, he screams at her that he wants nothing to do with it in front of almost your entire class. He tells her that it's entirely her fault, suggests an abortion, turns to leave as soon as she tries to talk again, and you swear to God that if Maya hadn't touched your chest and held you back that he would be dead.

She laughs at you with tears in her eyes before saying,"Lucas Friar, if your mother heard you using the lord's name in vain, _you_ would be dead."

The fact that she knows that she's right doesn't stop her from telling your mom when you guys got home that you did just that and she lands you a good week without TV, even if Maya was watching.

It was best decided for Maya to move in with you between your separate parents after about her third week of morning sickness. With your mom home all of the time and Katy not, it made sense for her to stay here in your guest room- though she's typically trashing _your_ room-with a mother near to care for her when need be. With all that upchuck and the fact that Maya always found herself crying and/or dead tired, it made sense for her to constantly have a companion when you just didn't cut it.

(Plus, with her go to crave being barbecue sauce and cornbread, your southern roots prove quite useful.)

All in all, this pregnancy thing isn't as hard as you suspected it would be so far. Granted, you're not the one actually carrying the baby, but still. The biggest change so far is only Maya's constant hurling. She still cries at terrible Shia LaBeouf movies. She still eats almost all the food in your house. She still throws things at your head when she gets mad. If anything, you're the one changing.

You're more protective of her now. You're constantly walking with your hand on her back and making sure she never trips. You're angry at everyone who looks at her like she's anything less than pure gold, ready to fight at the drop of a dime. Hell, she isn't even too visibly upset about the Nate debacle at school. She cries for a bit, tattles on you, and is right back to laughing in your bed at the Netflix blasting from your computer in your clothes. You're the one ready to tear his head off. _She's_ been mellowing _you_ out so far.

"HeeHaw, I want affection." Her hands grab at you from the bed adorably. It's been two hours since your mama grounded you and you're stuck cleaning your room while Maya has the time of her life. You pat her head, averting your eyes from the tempting screen to stick to your punishment that she ever so sweetly landed you with. "Mama's boy," she begs, "I need to be cuddled."

You try to ignore her, but she doesn't stop.

"No," she drawls as you turn away, "I want a hug." She gives you a pout and bats her eyelashes. Surprisingly enough, the bursts of wanting signs of love isn't new at all. She's made that same face at you with grabby hands for the past eight years.

"No, you want me to lay down with you and watch TV so that I can get in trouble again." Her eyes beg you more while she wraps her arms around her torso.

That's when she does it.

She does the absolute most devious thing that Maya Penelope Hart has done in your entire friendship since the beginning of time.

"Lucas, the _baby_ wants you to come hug us."

Fuck.

"The baby wants you to come and cuddle with us because we need body heat or we'll freeze to death. You have two people to keep warm now."

And you totally give into it because you're on the bed with her giggling into your neck before she can even get to her hypothermia facts and risks.

* * *

"Maya Penelope, I swear to the editors of that I will knock down this door right now!"

"You wouldn't."

"Well, I'm knocking really hard!"

"You're barely tapping it."

"You just got your new landlords, and I don't know them yet, Maya! I don't want to damage the door without knowing that they're nice and understanding people, which I'd like to assume but you don't live in the...best part of town."

You swing open your bedroom door to meet soft brown eyes with an apologetic twinkle in them. You hadn't exactly told her about the whole 'living with Cowboy' thing yet, so you're glad that she caught you on a night that you stopped home to pick up some clothes. "Oh, honey, you are just too sweet."

Riley steps into your room as you make room, her arms occupied with a bag filled with your favorite Laffy Taffys. "I brought 'I'm sorry' candy... and jokes." She gives you a tiny smile before dropping her gift and hugging you as tightly as she can. "I'm sorry, peaches. I'm so sorry. I was so surprised and I was being entirely selfish. I promise, I'm here for you! I'm as here for you and I'm as here for this baby as here can be!"

You weren't that upset with Riley for freaking out, if you're being entirely honest with yourself. You didn't really expect any less.

...and perhaps announcing that she was going to be an aunt wasn't the best way to put it, either. Yet, here she is; as regretful as ever.

"It's really okay, Riles. I swear. It's a big thing, and you didn't do anything wrong."

"Dad says he's really sorry, too. We want you to come to dinner tomorrow! It's been hectic weeks without you and we really don't like how we handled it. Mom's had a few good talks with us about it, and you're my best friend, Maya. You and the guys are everything to me. I never want to lose you, especially if you need me around."

You can't hold back your smile as your arm wraps around her waist and you lead her to your bed. When she lets out a content sigh, you can tell that this has been eating her alive without you around.

A twinge of guilt courses through you as you realize that you hadn't made any effort to reach out to her. Maybe letting her sit wasn't your brightest idea. Now actually considering who you're dealing with, Riley's parents probably had to force her to get up from bed to face you. She was probably moping and terrified that you hated her, which you should've known before deciding to leave her without any input from your side. You press a kiss to her temple before tightening your grip around her.

"I'll always need you around, sweetheart."


	3. ultrasounds and upchuck and utterly reck

Ch. 3: ultrasounds and upchuck and utterly reckless teenage boys

 **I forgot to post this yesterday, so I slipped in a little extra segment, but who can really blame me when I'm hype as fuck for Texas tonight?**

 **yadayadayada my tumblr is open and all that good stuff and I don't own gmw bc I don't think I've ever actually made a disclaimer**

* * *

You become a father without actually becoming a father on a Tuesday and the event happens during Maya and Lucas Jr.'s first ultrasound together.

You didn't think that the trip would be good from the start. Maya was nauseous even stepping foot near the building with a new sushi place next door, managed to puke on the entryway with a burning face and the sourest expression you'd ever seen, almost stepped in said vomit while trying to avoid it, and she was bursting with so much fatigue that she didn't say one word without her nose scrunched up with anger.

"I hate it here, Ranger Rick. I hate it here and the baby hates it here!" she declared bitterly with her arms crossed.

"Don't worry about it," the receptionist assured when you finally got her to the front desk, "It happens all the time. Do you have an appointment today?"

"Sadly," you heard grumbled from beside you before you sent your angry little best friend to the fish tank to wait out the doctor while you settled the desk work.

"We should just leave." She was anxious walking in. She tried to talk you out of the appointment yesterday, too, which wasn't happening since she'd been avoiding an ultrasound for what seemed like forever. You checked online, and when you saw that she should've had the first one like two months ago you refused to even discuss it. "I don't need them to show me a picture. I don't wanna see the baby before it's born. It doesn't want me to, I just know it."

She told you the night before that she was terrified they would find something terrible in an ultrasound. "That's where they see it, Eagle Scout! All the stuff that goes wrong! The ultrasound! It's bad luck!" she said. She hadn't been that upset since the Friday before when she started barely showing and called the doctor four times at two in the morning to make sure that it was okay she was showing at thirteen weeks instead of the traditional twenty. She said that it was in her expert medical opinion, but you still listened to her cry about how her baby was going to be the size of an elephant and tear her in half for an hour before she went to sleep.

When you finally made it to the little room they'd do the ultrasound in and she was fully ready to ditch the place, you physically had to hold her down so that they could squirt the gross stuff on the tool and rub it on her belly.

"Don't squish the baby!" she screeched when it touched her skin and her entire body scrunched up. She hated it. She absolutely hated it and you hated watching her sit through it.

The appointment just wasn't going great. You didn't think much would come out of it until the screen lit up beside the both of you with the image of a fluttering heartbeat and micro infant and Maya's hand interlocked with yours because she'd stopped breathing.

"Everything's looking great," the technician said with a grin, his hand pointing up at the monitor. "Right there's the heartbeat, Ms. Hart, of your healthy baby. I'll leave an image up on the screen for you two until you're ready to go, and I'll see you back in about four weeks." A nurse asked quickly if the two of you would like a print out and Maya nodded wordlessly before you were left alone.

"It's... it's really in there." Her face is glowing when her hands interlaces on her small bump. She looks from the screen to her abdomen with her lip between her teeth and you don't think that she'll be afraid of this place anymore.

It takes only a second for you to think that maybe it's not going terribly, and as soon as the thought crosses, Maya completely falls apart and it happens. She's sobbing and wailing and she is freaking out because her baby doesn't have a father and so you do what you do best; you fix her tears. You hold your breath and close your eyes and you blurt out, "I'll be the dad."

The strangest thing is that it's not your worst idea. It's totally plausible. "I mean, we're best friends, Maya. You already live with me and I'll probably fill in with how we are and stuff. Why not roll with it?"

Her tears immediately stop and she looks at you like you grew three extra heads. "Lucas, you don't want to be my baby's father."

"Says who?"

"Says me. You're an eighteen year old boy. You don't need this weighing you down."

You shake your head at her defensive tone. "Says no one. There is no one in this world that I'd rather share a kid with."

You expect more of a reaction out of her after that, but all you get is a quiet, "Okay," before the nurse is back with your ultrasound pictures and just like that, you're going to be a father. You're going to have a baby and you're going to have this baby with Maya. That little tiny human in the picture that you're going to hang on your fridge will be raised by the most beautiful girl that you know and you have the privilege of helping her. What's the worst thing that can possibly happen?

You really shouldn't ask that. Every time you ask that, Maya gives you terrible replies. You just need a pro.

Babies are cute?

Maya will probably cry less because of this topic now?

You have an excuse to watch Nick Jr. and brush up on Spanish with Dora free of judgement?

Hell, at least now you can really fight to put Lucas Jr. on the table? Right?

* * *

"Maya, Lucas bought you Christmas presents. He does this every year."

You love Riley, you truly do, but she is possibly the most useless person for this situation on this planet. You know that he buys you gifts every year, but every year the gifts aren't nice jewelry and delicious vanilla chai tea mix and baby supplies and a wake up call of a kiss.

...An actual kiss.

From Lucas's mouth.

It isn't even that you've never kissed him before, either! You kissed him in middle school, you kissed him when he won that scholarship to that baseball workshop sophomore year, you kissed him every Christmas leading up to this point with mistletoe in your hands, and, fuck, you even kissed him the night before to say sweet dreams- but the thing about all of those times is that _you_ kissed _him_ , and on Christmas morning this year it was definitely _him_ kissing _you_.

"No, Riles, it was different this year."

It fucks you up because you had such a great Christmas with him. It was literally perfect. You wore matching pajamas all Christmas Eve. Mama Friar found a way to bake barbecue sauce into cookies for you. Lucas tucked you in beside him with a plate of said cookies and you kissed him after he read your stomach about ten stories. While you pretended to be sleeping ten minutes later, Lucas ran out and set up your entire present stock. Shit, even after his kiss when he woke you up Christmas Day, you spent the entire day in PJs, singing and laughing and eating and just enjoying each other's company. It was literally your best Christmas thus far in existence, but you're still getting a sour taste fidgeting with the tiny diamond hanging from the chain around your neck that he got you.

"How was it any different from last year?"

"It felt like we were..."

You don't want to say it. You don't want to put the idea even out there because you and Lucas have had an amazing friendship for just about half of your lives, therefore that idea could destroy everything.

"You were what?"

You don't even know what you'd do if you lost Lucas. He's practically everything to you. You've never loved anyone as much as you love him, and if he was gone, you feel like the version you'd become of yourself wouldn't even be recognizable.

"Maya, what were you?"

Riley knows what you're going to say, and you're refusing to do it. You're refusing to cross that line. The second that those words leave your lips, everything could change and you don't need that. You're already having a baby for god's sake, how much more change can you really be due for?

"A coup-"

"A-skidoo skada a skio da-mmmmpphhhh"

Riley's hand tastes like chicken nuggets when you bite it to quit muffling you.

"A couple, Maya Penelope Hart. You felt like a couple," Riley teases with a smug look. "A coupley couple with one half that has razor sharp teeth wow." She shakes her hand with scrunched eyebrows and you refuse to even acknowledge her because she's insane.

"We're best friends." That would never change. You and Lucas vowed at ten that you'd be best friends forever, which you will. No matter what you've done, you've always just been best friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

That's how you like it.

(That's how you need it.)

If you're more than best friends then that leaves room for messy change, which you never want because messy change could lead to losing Lucas- and that's never happening. He's promised you that it'd never happen in a million years.

"You just don't get us," you scoff.

Pfft. A _couple_. You've never heard anything more ridiculous in your life.

* * *

"Lucas, are we a couple?"

You're not entirely sure that there's a correct answer to this question. You think that the immediate answer would be yes, right? Considering your current...predicament.

You're lying beside Maya. Naked. And she is lying beside you. Also in the nude. And you just did the thing that two consensual people do, especially when one is hopped up on hormones and really scary when she's all frustrated like that and she bit her lip in that way that gets your mind goin' and all your blood rushing south and all... so that would point towards couple, wouldn't it?

It's not the first time you've slept together, either. Every so often, if you were both single and worked up, you'd do it as friends. Just friends helping each other out. But since your last junior year hookup, you'd kind of agreed to father her child, so maybe you should say a couple.

The look on her face makes you think twice.

"I don't know, Maya. Do you want to be?"

She does, and you know it deep down, just like you know that you want to be one, too. You can also see the fight in her she's when the change processes through her mind.

 _Messy_ , she'd call it. _A messy unnecessary change_.

"I don't think so. I like being your best friend."

It doesn't sting like a rejection should because you know that it's not one. You know Maya. She's scared. Your feisty little Shortstack is terrified of change so she's handling her emotions the best that she can by keeping the label simple and steady. It's what she needs, so it's what you give her.

"Then we're best friends."

"And that's okay?" she asks you anxiously.

"And that's okay."

You can see the wave of relief flush her face before she presses a chaste kiss to your lips and cuddles to your chest. With her worries at ease, the exhaustion of her spent body catches up with her and starts to lull her to sleep.

"I love you, Ranger Rick."

It doesn't matter what you are to each other because at the end of the day, you know that she's yours and she knows that you're hers. Whether she needs a week or a year to label that; it doesn't matter.

"I love you, too, Penelope."

You'll be right here when she's ready.

* * *

When you were twelve, you got your period for the first time during the Friar family camping trip to Lake Michigan. You spent half an hour bawling into Lucas's lap while his fingers combed through your hair before you told his mom because you thought that you were dying.

 _"I was just goin' to pee, Huckleberry, and I'm bleeding out! I'm hemorrhaging! My stomach feels like it's being torn from the inside out! There's probably parasites in my intestines!"_

He knew that it was your period. As soon as you told him a single sentence of what you saw or felt, he knew exactly what had happened, but he still held you while you cried and made a fool of yourself. "I learned 'bout that stuff back on the farm with all the different animals. It was how to tell when we'd be able to get babies from 'em," he explained to you that night after his mom gave you an extensive tutorial on feminine hygiene. "I ended up askin' Mama about girls and she gave me a quick version."

"So why didn't you tell me that instead of sitting there while I cried, you butthead?!" Your tiny arm swung as his bicep, swatting a few times with a grumpy expression on your face.

"'Cause, you weren't ready yet." He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing. "I knew that you're comfortable enough with my mama to go to her with questions, and it's a lady subject. I didn't think it was my spot to force a lady subject on you while you were cryin'. I just wanted you to get to everything on your own terms. I know how important that is to you..." He looked guilty when he trailed the last of his words and you can remember your narrowed eyes easing up when he apologized. "I'm sorry. Mama just taught me that that's a private lady manner that young women turn to an older woman for. I don't think I'd make a very good older woman to ya."

"I dunno, I think some mascara could do you some good." Your fingertips brushed his eyelashes and his cheeks glowed brightly after he realized that everything is going to be okay.

"You'll be okay, Maya Papaya. Even when you're mad or sad or anything in between," he told you, "everything is going to be okay." You only laughed at him before the two of you dashed madly and joyfully for his fishing rods to make it to the lake before sundown.

You think about that memory a lot because it was the day that you realized that Lucas knows you better than you know yourself, and you still reflect on that fact even now because you're at five years from that trip going strong thanks to his extensive degree in everything you. Sure, that isn't the only thing about your friendship that bonds you, but it's definitely a key element to how well you work together.

You think that him having a key to your mind could even flourish your best friendship into more on nights like tonight when you can't sleep, so you force him awake.

You're straddling him innocently, eating pork rinds as he talks to your growing belly about its impending life with yawns fighting at his words.

He spends a good forty minutes explaining all he could about your child's aunts, uncles, and godparents (Riley and Farkle, no question), and when he reaches the topic of you and him, he gets this sweetness in his voice that makes your heart swell.

"Your mommy and daddy are going to love you very, very much."

"I like that," you blurt out at him. He stares at you in confusion, waiting for you to continue. "I like you saying 'mommy and daddy'. I like us being the mommy and daddy."

When you admit it, he grins at you with the same hue of pink on his face that he showed you when you were twelve. "You said us."

"I did," you assure. His statement almost seems like he's asking you if you mean it, and you do. You really do. You find yourself thinking about the promise the two of you made in elementary school together; the one about forever. It didn't particularly state that you couldn't be best friends _and some_ forever, so maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing in this world.

"I like that," he confesses before his eyes fall back to your small bump and he's bringing up how excited his is for the ultrasound next week that will tell you the sex of your little bun in your oven.

"Even if I already know that you're going to be a little boy," you add in, earning an eye roll from your _very_ mature best friend.

"You don't know."

"I do."

"It's impossible."

"Mother's intuition."

"A myth."

"I figured a little boy would make you happy. You've been addressing my baby by your name as if you have some legacy to carry on since the start."

"Does that mean Lucas Jr. is back on the table?"

"Lucas, _no_."

"Lucas, _yes_."

"We're not doing this. I am going to bed."

"Okay. Goodnight, Maya Papaya. I love you."

"Goodnight, Huckleberry. I love you, too. Let me sleep."

"...Goodni-"

"Lucas."

"Sorry."

"Bed. Now."

"...Goodnigh-"

" _Lucas_. Do you really think whispering makes a difference when you're wrapped around me and your mouth is by my fucking ear?"

"Right, sorry."

"Bed."

"...and-goodnight-lucas-jr.!"

"I cannot stand you."

"God, Maya, _let me sleep_."

Or maybe it would be the worst thing in this world.

You don't know if it'd work and you don't know if you are even compatible as such a couple and you don't know if you have the patience to be dating one Soarin' Eagle Friar, but you do know that the little noise of disbelief that leaves his lips as he holds you tighter sort of makes you really want to find out.


	4. sorrys and sons and statistically improb

ch.4: sorrys and sons and statistically improbable medical occurrences

 _ **ha remember when i said i was going to update this regularly? me too sorry i suck**_

 _ **anyways pls comment/review/like/favorite/all that fun stuff and follow me on tumblr amirmitchell thx**_

* * *

"What if they don't know the sex? What if they can't tell because the baby's all twisted up?"

"Maya, I'm sure that it'll all work out."

"What if our baby doesn't have a spine? That happens, y'know."

"...You've seen our baby's spine."

"Oh... Well, what if it disappeared?"

"Maya..."

"I know. I know. I'm over thinking and creating impossible scenarios that end in the death of our child again. I'll stop."

 _ **Again.**_

You chuckle a bit because it's going on three consistent months of her coming up to you at random moments and rattling off some condition that Lucas Jr. isn't going to have once he finally pops out. It's been nothing but _"Lucas, what if the baby doesn't have a tongue?", "Lucas, what if the baby goes breach and they accidentally rip its head off and I have the decapitated skull of my almost born child hanging between my legs for the rest of my life?", "Lucas, do you think that he'll find love with no limbs and only half of a heart?"_ , etc. since the first ultrasound weeks ago from her. Honestly, you find it almost exhausting, but the knowing look that she gets afterwards before apologizing is so damn adorable that you let it slide.

It's just jitters you hope will be (at least partially) eased after ultrasound appointment that you're walking into to learn if Lucas Jr. is a boy or a girl.

"Ah, Ms. Hart! Bright and early, I see. Good morning," the receptionist greets. You give her a tight lipped smile as you explain that you needed to get there an hour early because Maya has a notepad in her purse almost entirely full of possible deformations on your impending child.

" _Lucas_ , literally the penis that our baby has is a defect. All fetuses are female until they start poppin' dicks, Huckleberry."

"You don't know that it's a boy."

"I do know."

"Maya, I swear to-"

" _Mother's intuition_."

You scoff at her because what a load of shit, right? Sure, you know that moms sort of have a sixth sense thing, but there is no way that Maya has known all along that this baby is a boy. It's ridiculous and you stand by that thought the entire walk to the room before she's lying on the bed with her shirt tugged up to her chest.

You snicker as the doctors pulls out the tool, and you focus in because you can't wait to see her face while he's pressing the little tool into her bump and letting you both know that you are indeed having a boy and Maya's visions that aren't accurate didn't predict shit for the two of you or your son.

Wait.

Holy shit.

You're having a son.

Of course, you wouldn't have loved a little girl any less, and, of course, you expect the loud chorus of 'I told you so's from Maya from the patient seat, and, of course, you're excited to listen to the proper health tips and everything else that the nurse is listing off while Maya gloats- but holy shit, you're having a son.

"Mother's intuition is a **myth**! What a joke! You're a joke!" The mother of your son, your healthy little son, brags while prodding at your chest. "I told you so, Friar! I fucking told you!"

The doctor claims to leave the both of you to _bask in your private moment_ , but you know that she's stepping out because Maya just announced to anyone within a two mile radius that you can eat her ass because you were wrong.

You don't even care, though, because _you are having a son_.

You don't care about her bursting about mother's intuition or you always being wrong or teasing you about the tears in your eyes because you are having a little boy with the girl that you've spent practically your entire life loving and you couldn't be any happier.

* * *

You do this thing where you tend to get a _tad_ bit overzealous about being correct and you miss the entire point of whatever the actual topic was during your episode because of said behavior.

(Reference the speech given to Lucas after missing the Chinese food in the _front_ of literally _everything else_ in your fridge a few days ago. Like seriously, is he blind? Does he honestly believe that you won't know where the Chinese food is at all times? What the fuck? You need to veer from this, though, because you're honestly getting slightly heated and you really don't feel like getting mad right now.)

Your most recent occurrence happened to be learning the sex of your child.

(Which you were totally right about, but that's besides the point.)

You spent a good twenty minutes laughing at Lucas and his horrible judgment before you packed up and left the office, completely suppressing any emotions about the little boy cookin' up in your oven until right this very second.

"Huckleberry... wake up."

Ah yes, exactly 3:04 am. Your prime.

"Ranger Rick!"

He grumbles a bit, his arm loosening up from his hold on you before he opens his eyes. "What do you need, Maya? Can you not sleep again? Do you need something? Look, you know that I love you, but if you're waking me up just to talk, I don't know if I can do it. I can really try, but I'm just so sleepy." His words get a bit jumbled, blending together in a song of exhaustion.

You think that you might even like him the most when he's like this. Obviously he's cute, but you can't help but feel like your adoration runs deeper than a sleepy grin and scrunchy yawn. It's the commitment that he still has. He's struggling to keep his eyes open, but he's forcing himself awake to check on you. He's holding you, ready to try his best to comfort you until he literally drops. He's just so caring and admirable and just so fucking sweet that you can't help but lean over and press a kiss to his lips.

"What did you do that for?"

You shrug nonchalantly. "Because I love you."

"You are a dork, Maya Papaya," he teases, returning a kiss before he tugs you against him.

"You're the one who calls me Maya Papaya…"

"Potato Johnson? Billy Bob? Huckleberry? Etcetera, etcetera?" he muses to you, an eyebrow quirking up at your comeback.

"... Touché, Hopalong. _Touché._ "

* * *

"Hey, Lone Ranger, do you think that Lucas Jr. will like sugar snap peas?" Maya says as she chomps on the vegetable. She's studying for midterms on your bed, the little container of ranch dip resting cutely on her growing stomach as she munches away like a child. "Because I _love_ sugar snap peas! I eat them every day."

You know. You're the one who buys them. Every day.

"But when my mom was pregnant with me, she ate mushrooms every day, and I _hate_ mushrooms- you know that."

She tells you that they taste like a moldy eraser, and you nod in agreement even though you've never really tasted a moldy eraser to make the comparison. Actually, you don't even mind mushrooms all that much, but, then again, that fact is based off of your opinion in the third grade because you couldn't come within ten feet of the ingredient with Maya at your side without her gagging. You just took her word for it and blacklisted consuming all fungi as a pair.

"I don't think I can live my life without snap peas, Bandit King, I just don't!" she cries, her arms flying up anxiously. You watch as the container of dressing slips from her waist to form a pool on the edge of her notebook, a little drizzling onto your sheets in slow motion.

You want to marry her one day.

She's beautiful and charming and hilarious and even sweet, and you're not even dating yet, but you are going to slip a ring onto the fourth finger on her left hand one day and she is going to agree to be your wife.

You imagine her eyes sparkling more brilliantly than her ring will as you press a soothing kiss to her wrinkled forehead, dropping a towel on top of the mess as she notices it's reached her pants.

You imagine her gliding down the aisle, the trance of her dress completely unnoticed. In its place, you see the grin bursting from ear to ear because she's been dreaming of the day as much as you as she waddles towards the bathroom to clean herself up.

You imagine the vows that you'd say to her, sweet nothings to soothe the minds of your mothers and teasing cracks at her height and the crinkle in her nose that she gets when you call her by her full name, as she calls from the bathroom for you to bring her a pair of leggings from the top drawer in your dresser so she can change.

You know that you're young, and you know that you're not going to ask her any time soon, but still. You can't wait until you do.


End file.
